


Mystical

by Beautiful_Phantom



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1990s, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Animal Transformation, Bisexuality, Character Development, Comfort/Angst, Cover Art, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Curses, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, English, Eventual Romance, F/M, Falling In Love, Fanart, Friends to Lovers, Gen, M/M, Multi, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Polyamory, Romance, Selkies, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Supernatural Elements, Transformation, Werewolves, Witch - Freeform, Witchcraft, everyone is adult, mfm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2020-11-23 01:51:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20884208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beautiful_Phantom/pseuds/Beautiful_Phantom
Summary: Whispers echoed that there were a lone witch who lived near the seashore, surrounding herself with curses and thorns. It was said she will heal the sicks and destroy the curses—for a price.The said price, some may find, isn’t enough.Witchcraft/Alternative Present(?) AU, ConKagKal. Semi short-chaptered slow romance story, enabled by a good friend of mine, Demi/YoursAlways. Not beta’d.





	1. Say a Prayer

  
Drawn by me, if you’d like to see more works by me, please visit my [art blog](https://belle-drawthings.tumblr.com/).

* * *

Chapter 1: Say a Prayer

* * *

Blood roared in his ears and red smoke blurred his unfocused gaze further from the great blue. Only one thing was on his mind.

_Survive_.

With a powerful slap of his fins, he propelled his speckled body and rippled through the brilliantly blue water. Pebbles and sharp stones grazed against his belly but his skin, though spotted with scratches and flesh sores, was left unblemished by such trivial objects. No, as the white sunlight filtering through the surface spoiled his sorry state, there were much more dangerous things that could've easily punctured his toughened body.

Something splintered from his side and torn a great bark from his large mouth. Yet another arrow dangling from his flesh, its head digging into his skin and refusing to let go, adding to a worrisome count he kept on his battered body. A stray thought that had his ill-natured side faintly amused that he might've resembled a swellfish from his home territory.

His latest injury dyed the river further, tailing him and unashamedly unveiling his location to the dogging Hunter. Gritting his jagged teeth he kept on, refusing to surrender to the imposing Reaper _just_ yet. Fatigue was catching up to him—and fast.

For the first time in his entire adulthood, he prayed to any entity above—to save him.

_"Please, please…_" he begged, his words warbled throughout the crashing water. Blackness encroached his reddened vision, "_I'll beg even the Sea Witch!"_

Time slowed, his fatigue drifted him to the surface, as weight tugged his eyes to fall close. Something—no, a _creature_, howled.

He remembered nothing else.

* * *

Softness followed, his dreams kind. There were no lust to skin him for his flesh and bones. It was an eternity there.

But, he never wanted to live in a simple eternity of nothingness and softness. He was meant to be one with the water and slumber underneath the warmth of sunlight—with his family of a lovely mate and children. That was the dream he desired. A happy family.

A family he hadn't yet made or gained.

So, he fought. He protested against the eternity. He begged himself to _wake_ up.

And wake up he did.

He couldn't see anything—not at first. There were clouds in front of his eyes, blurring the colors and shapes together into one indistinguishable blob. But, he could _feel_ the new world he's living in.

His fingers dug in and found what felt like dry fabric, not course but not silky either. It was comfortable enough. Soft—just like the eternity he was in.

Wait.

_Fingers?_

Panic cleared his gaze and he saw brown panes of woods—a ceiling. He dropped his eyes and walls followed. There were little decorations.

He jumped up, his back flying from the softness beneath him. Slapping his hands everywhere, he couldn't find his precious cloak—nor could his eyes find anything pale and speckled. _"No, no no…_" He didn't want this!

Being trapped—!

It was hard to breathe now, his heart stabbing its way out. A dismay cry escaped his chapped lips ungracefully, "**No!**"

He had no coordination in his body, the reason not yet clear to him, and fell from the mattress. Drawing the blanket tightly around his waist, he slapped it aside. Slapping his hands onto the rough grains of the floor and fisting over the wood, not caring about splinters in his palms, he struggled finding his surely bare feet.

He stiffened at the sound of something thudding and strangled a whimper at the _soft and too-sweet_ voice that followed—his capturer, "Oh, _dear!"_ He didn't dare look up when a pair of sleek—albeit aged and a touch muddy, boots thudded in front of his bowed head on the floor he'd earlier scarred, "Please don't panic—you'll only worsen your injuries and,"

His eyes widened when a familiar sensation draped across his back, "I was only cleaning your sealskin, I swear! Now, _breathe. _Breathe slow, good selkie—and you're _naked_. Okay." The voice shuttered with embarrassment. His cloak pooled over his body, its size extensive but _familiar_.

Yanking his precious cloak over his shoulders he shivered—though whether out of fear or relief, he was not sure. At the insistent press of fingertips—not fingers as it appeared the person was wise to keep distance, he remembered her pleads and wheezed in deep. The organ inside his chest slowed, cooling the inflammations from his earlier panic attack. At the _lady_'s gentle encouragements he took his time breathing and clinging on his sealskin, treasuring even the rough bark of his dry skin on the inside.

When his head was finally clear of its battering words and his jaw feeling lighter from tensions, he rose his head. At first he saw knees—a simple navy blue skirt, really, that bloomed across the floor—had she been kneeling this entire time? He moved his eyes upward, the lady was wearing a pale-colored cardigan (that had seen better days), and lost his words from his throat when he met her dark eyes.

She was probably the loveliest one he'd ever seen.

He'd been surrounded by beautiful people from his birthhome, but the simplicity of this woman was something he didn't dare to describe. She smiled and her gaze warmed, though her cheeks were tinged a slight pink and kept her eyes pinned to his face, "I'm really sorry about taking your sealskin away from you, it was filthy and I wanted to clean it the best I could." When he swallowed thickly to wet his throat, she laughed still with an apologetic weight, "I didn't expect you'd wake up so soon after receiving so many wounds though," she gestured to the bandages riddled across his body, the biggest happened to be the one wrapped around his stomach—she still kept her eyes upward, refusing to gaze down to the man's most private body part, "it was never my intention to harm you," she paused and shook her head with a sigh, as if she remembered a detail, "nor to keep you."

Chewing on the insides of his mouth he shifted his attention away at the taste of guilt, "I—I am sorry, I hadn't—"

"Don't be," she interrupted, warmth returning in her voice, and rolled to her feet mindful of her dress—and her eyes still, "now then, you should rest—_please_." The lady floated her fingers over his shoulder, not touching the sealskin, and pressed her other hand on his chest, "I've healed what I could, but some more grievous wounds needed to have the nature to take its course." Without much forces she insisted him to return to his feet and to his bed—at which he easily abided.

A white fire struck, rubbing his side almost raw when he moved just a tad too much. Upon it he barked and nearly toppled over himself into the mattress, wincing and cupping his stomach, "What is—?" He pinned an elbow into his bed and only then did he register hints of red across the crinkled sheet below, "How badly…?" He blinked at a hand compressing his thick shoulder and later an arm that roped across his chest.

"Are you—" She shook her head and frowned at his unfinished questions, "No, you will be. You were at the Death's door when you've arrived, whoever attacked you left you quite a big hole in," with gentleness she drifted her arm down and palmed over his right side, "here. I've managed the bloodloss, your kind takes transfusion quite well, but you were and are still in a bad shape." The lady gave another press toward the bed, "Don't worry, you will recover before long, but you need to rest. I'll have a nice bowl of porridge for you in just a minute."

He tucked his bottom lip in when she manipulated his weakened body into a proper position on his bed—though he tightly gripped his cloak. Something she barely batted her eyes at and merely adjusted it so to cover his body (his loins specifically) as a blanket, "W-why are you doing this? If…if not to keep me as a…pet?"

At that she blinked, "…You called for me to help you." A slow smile curled her lips and she chuckled into her loose fist at his wide eyed expression, "You should thank my…" she sighed with a slight annoyance, "companion when you see him. He's the reason why we were able to get you here so quickly."

_'She's…the Sea Witch?_' She hardly looked like one. She was petite, _youthful_, without a hint of malice in her veins. Not a descriptor he normally heard for a witch. Perhaps he was wrong—he had been quite _vague_ as of which entity he was begging to beyond the Sea Witch. Still, he should be grateful he survived and was spared from being one of the Hunter's many trophies. He nodded, "I'll do that—_thank_ you."

She eyed him for a moment, unnerving him a tad, before she chuckled again and tugged her cardigan closer for comfort, "Don't worry about it, just focus on the healing and then you'll be home-free."

"…?" Did she not want a reward? "What's about the paym—"

"Oh, for the love of the goddess, _no_." Annoyance darkened her face, "I don't need anything, really. Just, please," her expression gave away to a maternal look, "focus on yourself for the time being and let me take care of you until then." When she saw his dubious face she blew air, "If you're being insistent, we can talk about this silly thing _later_, once you're better. That alright?"

"That's fair." He agreed, saddling his head on the pillow—he rather liked how firm the pillow is. Just who was this woman, he wondered, as the question repeated in his mind.

"Great!" She patted her thighs, "I'll bring you the bowl. Just give me a minut—"

"I've realized—" he craned his head and spotted her at the door, "I never introduced myself. My name is Kaldur'ahm of the Atlantean Greyfin—or selkies you surface-dwellers called us as. What is yours, missus?"

Gripping the door she paused, before she shook her head with a brilliant smile, "Call me whatever you like." Before Kaldur'ahm could protest, she hurried, "If you'll excuse me, the porridge is going to burn if I let it sit a minute longer." The lady was gone, leaving Kaldur'ahm breathless.

"…Are you truly the vicious Sea Witch?" He pondered aloud.

* * *

A/N: Will probably be updated very randomly, since I'm writing (winging) it. Beyond the introductions of our main characters, there isn't really any plot? This story is more focused on development between the trio and their relationship(s), a bit similar to YoursAlways' Little Things, her ConKagKal ficlet, and is too a slice of life story...on the most parts, methinks.

But, this is probably the perfect time to post it, since fall and supernatural always does make for a good read, imo.

Anyway, feel free to throw any feedback and (slice of life) suggestions my way. :)


	2. White as the Driven Snow

* * *

He had little ideas of how long he'd slept—could be few days, for all he knew, when he finally woke to an all-consuming darkness of the night on an impulse. The excessive chirping of nocturnal insects (they sounded as if they were right outside his wall) told him that much, that he was still safe and the Sea Witch kept her words. But, he paused his readjusting on his bed at the sight of something…_odd_.

The Sea Witch left the door ajar, giving him enough privacy but gave him a gap to give him a sense of freedom—and to call for her help, if needed. Through that thin crack was something _large_ and _white _slipping by, with what sounded like clicking glass on wood—before it became still. The clicking ended. Whiteness that cut through the darkness as the snow during the winter night would, gazed back. The color was not brilliant in the dark, not like the fireflies during the warm summer months, but there was a phantasmal glow to it. It was enough for him to stand at attention.

A _ghost_? Kaldur'ahm froze. It couldn't be the Reaper waiting for him, could it? He remained where he was, his precious sealskin drew tightly in his fists over his shoulder. Like a child would with their coveted blanket—as any Greyfin who held their freedom and the seas dearly would. There were little he could do, he was still weak. Only thing he could do is to pray to the Sea Witch to speak reasons to the creature and to leave him be.

A golden disk blinked and he swallowed his bark at the sight of it. The door creaked, its snout pushing it aside, and Kaldur'ahm could feel his heart starting to kick up with a burning intensity. As it unveiled itself, its body much larger than even his own two-legged form, Kaldur'ahm knew it was a true predator.

A predator could swallow any seal whole, if they so wanted to.

Another golden disk—a pair, turned to him, and it _approached_. Even its slow gaits spoiled its hunting nature.

Despite the taste of fear coating his tongue, Kaldur'ahm thinned his lips.

If it wanted to eat him, it could've done so when he was dead asleep.

"Sheesh," he jolted at the deep voice—a voice that came from nowhere but what was facing him, "no need to get your panties in twist. I ain't going to globber you up," it—he, he sounded too masculine to deny anything else, "so calm down and go back to sleep."

Kaldur'ahm stiffened, the close distance permitted him to see the creature's large mouth moving. In spite of his canine anatomy, he speaks like a human would, "Wha—who are you?"

His sun-like gazes pierced through him, "…Go back to sleep." The Creature turned away, his stride remarkably like a cat—he was a four-legged being, Kaldur'ahm registered, "The Lady's going to cook us a nice breakfast in 'he morn' and will probably draw you a bath or something to help with your injuries."

"…why did you come in here?" Kaldur'ahm frowned, wondering if the Creature's presence truly warranted the taste of his heart slamming into his mouth. Although he couldn't see much, as his night vision was only good in his Greyfin form, he could tell that those four legs were somewhat exaggerated and lanky underneath a massive body. Its anatomy was awkward, leaving Kaldur'ahm to wonder just what the Creature truly was.

A Familiar of the Sea Witch, perhaps?

There was a sound that told Kaldur'ahm that if the Creature could've shrug, he would've, "…Was just checking on you to see if you're still alive. Which you are." He slipped through the door, "Morning'll be here in few hours—and Lady gets up at the unholy buttcrack of dawn."

The Creature was gone, what seemed like the breeze from his stride creaked the door back to its' original position, leaving a gap of black in-between. The drumming organ in his chest slowed, "…_What_ was he?" Kaldur'ahm palmed his forehead, feeling a migraine incoming, "Am I in the purgatory?"

Where in the world did the Sea washed him up to?

The Sea Witch—if that was what she truly was, wasn't quite as menacing as the stories told, tending to him without a second thought and asked for nothing in return. She looked like a simple woman—albeit beautiful, yet she hosted a strange Creature in her home. The said Creature that could've devoured him, but didn't and instead patrolled throughout this shelter, disregarding their guest.

_Just who is this woman?_

* * *

He didn't remember sleeping a single blink that night, when tiniest of sun's glitters peered through the curtains on his windows and broke the darkness, little by little. Startled by the changes in colors, Kaldur'ahm blinked and unfolded himself from his bed, "…Can't be the purgatory," he cupped his face and rubbed any lingering fatigue away from his pale eyes, "it's _too_ noisy." He groaned at the screaming chirping of birds—and one howling rooster.

Merry clucking of chickens followed.

"Fuckin’ clucker," came a distant voice—a voice that haunted him from the hours previous, "Always too early for this shit. Why the Lady keeps you damn bird in particular is beyond me." He groaned. Something scattered and made multiple thumps on the soft ground. Foods for the fat birds, Kaldur'ahm decided when the chickens gone quiet.

Or, quiet_er_.

Having mingled with many ordinary bodies to learn and quenched his random curiosity, Kaldur'ahm learned one damning fact about those animals. They _never_ learned the definition of what the inside voice is. Still, there were certain charms about them, so beyond being a horrid alarm clock in the morning, the chickens weren't too bad of animals.

Farther away, he thought he heard sounds of other animals—a reminiscent of what the farm would've sounded like, from grunting, braying, to mooing.

"Oh," Kaldur'ahm aroused from his distraction of hearing the Creature's grumblings and happy birds fattening themselves up at the sound of the Witch's voice, "you're…awake." He rose his head to catch her surprise. A smile grew, replacing the shock, "Well, good morning! Hope you're feeling better?"

Tugging his sealskin over his waist, he nodded and felt the tensions in his jaw loosening. A smile came, though he kept it small and his voice soft, "Much. I do still feel hungry though," Kaldur'ahm admitted when his stomach twisted once more, "and very sore, but much better than I was before."

The Witch lit up and creaked the door further, slithering her body inside his borrowed sanctuary, "That's great!" She released a relieved burst of air, "I have little experiences with your kind, so I wasn't sure if my medicine will take." Keeping a respectable distance, she rested her clasped hands on her stomach—showing Kaldur'ahm her lack of threat, that she was holding nothing—sans a medical box, "I'd like to check your bandages and see how your healing is progressing—if that's okay with you?" She put the object aside out from his sight.

Kaldur'ahm lend his body forward, the fur and dry underside dug into his palms, and revealed his back toward her gaze, "Feel free to."

"Thank you—and my apologies in advance if you feel any sting." The Witch acknowledged, busying her fingers to unwound the course texture of his gauzes. She said little though Kaldur'ahm didn't miss her mousy winces at his apparent state.

She paused and peered over his shoulder, "I'm going to take this one off contact from your skin now." It was a gentle warning, but one nonetheless he appreciated.

He flinched when the Witch peeled the gauze off his skin, creating a sickly noise of sticky pops of dried blood and sensitive splotches. The Witch slipped a quiet confession, "I've always hated that sound. You'd think I got used to it doing what I do," she unstuck the last thread off from his stomach, "but I never do. There," she wrapped in the rusty-hued dressing and passed it off to a side table behind him for later removal. The unimpressive furniture was tucked away in a corner of his room without his ever noticing its existence, leading him to realize he never paid attention to what sort of house the Witch lived in, "that's out of the way. Let me have a looksee…"

Kaldur'ahm flustered when a warm-hot palm flattened in between the blades of his shoulders, an necessary one he knew, but a stranger's touch was oftentimes a strange experience. It, like the rest of the Witch's appearance, was surprisingly maternal in its weight—gentle and unimposing. He followed her insistence to bent further willingly, patience taking roots.

He frowned when the Witch expressed a strange hum, "M-missus?" He wanted to glance backward, to catch her expression, but refrained.

"You're healing well enough," there was a _but_ in there, "though it definitely looked like I was right to draw you a herbal bath." Her hand left his strong back, leaving an achingly absent space on his dark skin, "I see beginning signs of infection—brought on your pursuer's poisoned arrows, of that I have no doubt." The Witch grunted in disgust, "Nerves of their lots. Nonetheless," she turned into his line of sight, "Kaldur'ahm, is it? I hope I pronounced your name well—"

"Kaldur is acceptable," Kaldur assured, straightening from his previous posture, "but you did a perfect job."

The Witch's smile was lovely, matching the rest of her homely persona, "Glad to hear. Now then, Let me check the rest of your injuries…"

Kaldur was surprised how quick the Witch was to unwound each bandage, her inspections thorough yet brief. "Alright, every one looked to be healing alright, but a good few…I am concerned about." She gestured at herself and extended an arm for him to take and to lean on for support, "Soaking your injuries twice a day for few days should keep those nasty buggers away. If you will come with me?"

Accepting her offer Kaldur paused at the silky-smooth skin beneath his pink palm. At the soft whisper of his name he shook himself out of his eerily quiet trance, "Y-yes, of course." He tightened his sealskin over his shoulders and slithered from the thin blanket and his bed.

He didn't miss a squeak when he drew to his full height, "Miss?" Kaldur peered on the black crown of her hair and took a moment of awe at just how petite she was. Somehow, perhaps it was just him dwelling on his misfortunate and dreads, he failed to notice most of the superficial details of this woman.

What lovely superficial details they were.

He was normally quite observant, with quite an artistic sense of appreciation.

And he was appreciating how scarlet red she was with her grey-blue eyes averted to a wall, "U-uhm, do you also mind covering yourself up?"

"Ah," he'd forgotten how modest the surface-dwellers could be, "my apologies." Kaldur cleared his throat, parting his arm long enough to readjust his sealskin to rest on his hips instead. He bit back a wince when a slight brush of his fur touched two of his still-healing wounds.

They were at least a healthier shade of pink, stark from his brown skin. With his untrained eyes, he could not find any trace of infection the Witch referred to. Kaldur and the rest of his species hardly retained such severe wounds, very few made a habit to visit the surface in their Greyfin form. Their skin and muscles were much too thick to harbor deep wounds much like the one he received, unless they were from persistent attacks. The Hunter, he grimaced at the memory of his greedy face, had been on his tail for few days, and Kaldur hadn't dared to lead him to the nest.

Especially not when they were in the season of newborns. There were already several litters of newborn cubs nursing from their exhausted dams too fragile to leave their haven just yet.

To think he nearly died doing his brother-in-spirit a favor by hunting to provide for his new family. Kaldur closed his eyes at the thoughts of Garth and Tula's worries. He hadn't been to the nest for a week, perhaps several days more.

The Hunter made sure to keep same targets on his body, weakening him to the point of near death, simply because of how solid his skin were. The wounds became inhumanly large because of that man's dogging lust for his death. He lived, thanks to his pleas to just the right entity.

He peeled open his pale eyes at the awaiting Witch, not resisting the urge to smile at the sight of her pointedly kept her attention off his person, "Is this sufficient, I hope?" Kaldur gingerly returned his grip back to her awaiting arm.

The Witch returned her gaze and released a sigh of relief, "That'll do just fine." She coughed, vanishing her initial embarrassment, "If you will follow me?"

* * *

It smelled like a freshly bloomed garden, the water murky with countless crunchy leaves drifting on the surface. Kaldur peered at it, it was…very green, earthy. The colors were so rich its pigments even marred the porcelain of the bathtub.

His wariness brought a laugh from the Witch, "It's all herbs—they shouldn't hurt you, though," She encouraged gently, "I did my best to supplement my lack of knowledges with research. You _shouldn't_ have any adverse to any particular herbs used…but in the case you are experiencing unusual symptoms," the Witch tested the water and found it warm, "beside slight numbing, do let me know."

Kaldur watched her pulling her fingers from the bathwater and grimaced when they were as stained as the porcelain, "I…understand."

Flicking the drops and with relief, the Witch wiped her fingers completely clean with a rag, "I'll," she cleared her throat, "be nearby. I need to prepare breakfast for us three."

"Three?" Kaldur blinked, "Are you referring to that wolf by any chance?"

The Witch paused her fretting with a slack of towels left on a small metal table a foot away, in an arm reach from the bath, "You've seen him? When?" Her voice was light, but it was riddled with surprise.

Kaldur didn't wait on his reaction, "Y-yes, I've seen him last night."

Her sigh was a long one, "I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am," she faced him, a frown prominent on her lips, "he…gets restless on the worst timings—did he scare you? I promise, Conner isn't that bad as much of a thorn he is in my side sometimes." The Witch worried her lips.

Despite calling her wolf companion an annoyance, it was apparent she cared about him. Kaldur shook his head, "It's alright, perhaps we can get it cleared up when we meet—properly." He remembered last minute that her companion—Conner, played a part in rescuing him. He owed him his gratitude too.

"…Well," the Witch parted, her feet taking her to the door. She kept her gaze on his dark skin, her brows knitting, "alright, call me if you need me. You'd need to soak for a half-hour or so."

Without another word, the door fell close and left Kaldur in a considerate silence. He broke it with a slow hum, his hands darting to the knot on his hip, "What a…strange woman she is," Kaldur murmured, his sealskin pooling at his feet. Testing the water himself, he grimaced at its colors again.

It coated his fingers with a gritty grime, strangely silky. He'd have to rest himself into this bath for half an hour? Slumping, Kaldur comprehended maybe he should pretend that he already soaked and never laid inside this tub.

His stomach smarted and he winced. Guilt followed at this reminder, the Witch had been nothing but kind to him. Kaldur foresaw no other options or risk a severe infection she aimed to prevent.

Sighing, Kaldur picked up a foot and swung his leg over the rim.

The water was warm, at least.

* * *

He lost the track of time.

It took a gentle jostle to wake him, his name whispered in worries, "Kaldur? Kaldur…?" Her touch was heavy on his shoulder.

"Hmm…?" Splashes cracked the surface of water when Kaldur rose his arm to rub the sleepiness from his eyes, "Did I—I fell asleep." Kaldur groaned, his skin darkening.

"Are you alright? Are you feeling strange?" The Witch tapped her knuckle on his chin, her eyes flying to check any abnormality in his face. She pressed her fingers onto his pulse underneath his jawline, "…feels normal."

Kaldur flustered by her attention and gently took the Witch's hand from his jaw, "I'm alright, missus, I merely fell asleep." He never expected to have fallen asleep—and to be caught by his current caretaker, no less.

She didn't pull away, though she took a moment to reanalyze Kaldur's gaze. The Witch slumped with a small laugh, relieved, "It's the effect of herbs, how are your stomach feeling?"

"…Oddly enough, I don't feel much of anything." Kaldur remarked, sploshing the brown water so to see the bright pink-red wound better. Somehow it looked much pinker than before, _healthier_, despite being under the gritty grime.

There was a strange mousy squeak. Kaldur blinked and followed the noise, his gazes drifting to the Witch and found her calm expression. He blinked again, he wasn't completely out of water and the water was quite murky.

Clearing her throat, the Witch pinned her attention upon his stomach, "That'd…be the numbing side effect I've mentioned, that meant the herbs are doing their jobs." Rolling up her sleeves, her near-iconic cardigan included, she reached down into the tub. Mindful of his obscured legs, the Witch plucked the stopper, "I think it's time for you to wash up," she coughed again when she readjusted her kneeling posture, "take a quick shower, dry up—don't touch the open wound, please—and put on a pair of funnel pants Conner gave you."

Shifting to stand, using the lip of the tub to support herself, she continued her instruction and pointed a finger to the wall adjacent to the porcelain bathtub, "it's on the chair. Let me know when you're done so I can dress up your wounds, hm?" The Witch patted her homely skirt on her lap and threw Kaldur a smile, "We'll have breakfast afterward. Do you…" another cough, she tilted her chin, "need help standing up?"

Kaldur shook his head, having already folded his legs to stand and gripped a hand on a handle imbedded inside the tiled wall, "No, but thank you."

He missed the way she averted her eyes, her skin growing red.

The Witch's voice hiked a higher pitch when he broke his knees out of the water, "Would you like me to turn on the shower for you?" She sounded strangely _shaky_?

But he didn't think much of it, having already forgotten about humans' shyness with one other. Kaldur had no idea how the shower functioned, his knowledges with human's technology a bit on the limited side, "Oh—yes, please."

Without another word she drew close the plastic shower curtain (it was simple floral in design, he realized) and tucked it inside the tub. Through a gap between the curtain and wall, Kaldur paid special attention to the way her hand naturally performed over the protruding faucet and knobs. Rain followed, warm streams of water sweetly kissing his skin and washed away the healing layer of earth.

He wanted to close his eyes, but the silhouette of her body stirred through the fogged drapery glued him. Seeing that Kaldur wasn’t averted to the temperature of the falling water she patted away quietly, her blurred shape retreating from Kaldur's vision. Click of the doorknob was drowned out by the pummeling shower.

_Thrump_.

Kaldur groaned under the water, his forehead cooling against the slicked wall, "By the Sea…" He had no idea what to think—how to _feel_, about this new situation he was in.

Palming against his scalp, Kaldur finally allowed himself to appreciate the shower. It was foreign—heavier and more focused than any rain he experienced before, but it was…_relaxing_. Calming, just like after the raging storm.

Refreshing.

In this small, isolating space, Kaldur found himself wondering if he could return to having a shower again.

While he doesn't understand half the things humans likened to utilize, this he could grow to love.

Being taken of was also nice.

* * *

He hated pants.

This much he knew, but as he was tightening up the ties on his waist, Kaldur huffed knowing it was a necessary. Kicking up a foot, he grimaced when one length fell past his ankle. This Conner was certainly of a taller sort—or perhaps bigger.

Minding his healing body Kaldur plucked his sealskin off the puddle-riddled floor. Hugging it he relished in its comfort. He was still safe.

_Knock, knock_, came the door.

It creaked and the Witch peered through the gap, "Can I…come in?" Her voice carried that familiar mouse squeak.

"Come in," Kaldur lowered his crumpled cloak, "I'm…modest."

"Indeed you are," she whooshed a sigh of relief.

Kaldur couldn't resist a chuckle, but said nothing else. She slipped inside the bathroom, pointedly ignoring its wet state. In her hands was that medical box from before. Setting it atop of the nearby sink, she flipped the latch and revealed the busy contents inside, "Okay! Time to patch you up…"

Kaldur found that he didn't mind her touches as much this time.

* * *

Her kitchen wasn't the cleanest, the countertops riddled with messes from cracked eggshells to stained bowls and pans, but it was as homely as the Witch was. The adjoined dining room played a different story, immaculate and clean sans plates full of hot foods across the table. The sight of them made Kaldur's stomach rumbled.

He flustered, quietly pardoning himself, "My apologies…"

The Witch giggled, "It's fine—you must've gone for days without foods." That smile fell at that remembrance. She shook her head before Kaldur could part his lips, "There's plenty to go around!" She encouraged, gesturing to a chair.

The table was on a long side, perhaps 7 chairs worth, but only kept three filled plates awaiting with excesses in the center. The Witch took the head, seating herself in the chair—and Kaldur followed suit, taking the adjacent. He noticed the absentee in the opposite from him, "Where is…your companion?"

Before the Witch could produce an answer, heavy footsteps creaked the air, "Sorry, didn't mean to be 'ate." There was a pause.

Kaldur lifted his attention from the Witch to another entrance he hadn't yet crossed and met a heavy gaze. He recoiled at the differences in the color. They weren't golden—but blue, same shade of the sunny sky. But, the sharpness and wildness in those eyes told him it was very much the same Wolf he met the previous night.

Like the color of his eyes, any traces of white fur didn't exist in this form—only a short layer of shaggy hair much darker than the Witch's adored his scalp. But the size remained just as intimidating.

This person—Conner, was _beefy, _his muscles even pulled his black tanktop taut across his chest. Bare arms were _thick_, tanned somewhat under many days of sun. His hands looked as if they could crush a full-grown male's head without any ease at all, calloused with hard works.

But his face had Kaldur speechless. Sculpted like a god, his cheekbone sat high and jawline hard. Conner was almost the polar opposite in statue from the Witch's soft and petite figure.

(They complimented each other well, Kaldur thought.)

"…had to change clothes 'cause of the farm," Conner resumed, closing the distance with a grab onto his available chair. Ignoring its groan-scraping onto the floor, he dropped his weight onto the seat and continued, "didn't want to stink the breakfast."

"I told you, you don't really need to do all of this," the Witch complained, her brows furrowing with a near distraught. Kaldur blinked at the sliver of guilt clear in her eyes.

Conner narrowed his gaze, "We had this conversation before—I ain't going nowhere when you asked 'or nothing." He huffed.

_She asked for nothing?_ Leads tugged at Kaldur's lips. The Witch doesn't accept debts?

Kaldur nearly jumped in his seat, when Conner turned himself to him. Coolness, to Kaldur's surprise, lightened with the clearing his throat, "Hadn't meant to do you a hell of the scare," Conner winced and rubbed the nape of his neck, "so, uh, really sorry. Was mindin' my own business when you woke up. Lady gave me a good ear about it."

Neither were deaf to the Witch's annoyed sniff.

Blinking, Kaldur dropped his head into a nod, "It's…fine. I supposed I worked myself too much over it." He wasn't wrong. It wasn't comfortable knowing he was living with another predator unfamiliar to him.

"Still feel bad 'bout it, honest." Conner clapped a palm onto the table, "But, no uses beatin' myself over it when we have foods gettin' cold. So, uhh, I'm Conner. Conner Kent." He reached out a hand over the table, mindful of foods underneath his arm, "You?"

Kaldur cleared his throat, "Kaldur'ahm, though you are welcome to call me Kaldur." His handshake wasn't as firm as Conner's was, his hand almost developing his dark one.

"Nice to meetcha—guessing you didn't know the Lady's name yet, huh?" Kaldur frowned and shook his head. Conner blew a huge gust of air, "Damn."

Before they could continue their discussion, there was a clap, "We should eat!" The Witch chirped, alighted in Kaldur's direction, "We can save our questions afterward—we should have our blessings and then enjoy our meal, yes?"

Whatever tension Kaldur had in his shoulders were gone, his grips on the sealskin loosened, "…Yes, we should." He smiled.

* * *

A/N: In this chapter we stan how bi as heck Kaldur is. Anyway, there’s really not much to say about this chapter. Since it’s slice of life ficlet, it’s generally dramafree (“generally” is the keyword here) and heavy focus on development in whole. An easy kind of read, I suppose? So, see ya next week! 

Please review and give your thoughts on the progress~

Edit: I just got an confused anon. This is NOT a multicrossover or anything like my Love in Archive—this story is staying a Young Justice and InuyAsha crossover, note the key pairing under the summary in FFN/tags in a03. Those wouldn’t exist in FFN if it’s intended to be anything like my LiA (and would be stated plainly in the summary box) and would be stated otherwise in a03. Rather, I was asking for THEMES to incorporate typically seen in slice of life genre, such as dealing with polygamous relationships, helping a lost kid to find their way home, etc., since I had little plot in the way. Sorry for the confusion!!


	3. Humility, the perfect Quietness in her Heart

Somehow, Kaldur won the expectations to wash the dishes—he certainly had been around humans enough to understand the basics. Conner gave up shortly afterward, though the Witch, her heart good and just, fettled. She was stubborn, but he shrugged her away and used an excuse of needing to stretch his legs. The Witch relented but demanded to be the one to dry the dishes and to clean up the countertops.

Before she could tackle the surface though, Conner was already there with a wipe and paper towels. His reward was a sulky glare, "What?"

"I really should beat you with a broom." She replied, huffy, "The blunt end!"

Conner rolled his eyes, "As if you can run me off, Lady—you tried it before and look how well that worked out." The reply he got was a mutter, her words a string of nonsense. He snorted, amused. He didn't linger long to mock her pain, taking his leaves to take the eligible trash outside for, in his disgruntled words, 'them damn fat birds and horned assholes'.

At Kaldur's puzzled look, the Witch was quick, "Oh, he was talking about my chickens and goats on my farm." She sniggered, "They didn't really like him, especially the rooster." Screaming clucking and bleating followed her claims. "Though my only piggy doesn't mind him much." She mentioned.

Conner's reply was sudden, hollering, muffled by the wall separating the kitchen from outside, "And he's my goddamn fave out of all these bastards!"

The Witch mocked an offended look at the Wolf's statement.

Smothering the urge to laugh openly at their earlier exchanges, Kaldur poured more generous amount of dish soap and minded the small warmth against his side. The Witch made him to wear an apron, to keep his bandages dry, and then lamented his lack of a shirt. She expected him to take it easy after and in her words, to bother the Wolf—Conner.

What was there to say to him, Kaldur found himself wondering.

Throughout his adult life, he was never much for a topic starter—beyond educational purposes. He'd always been a good student, a quick learner, but Kaldur was awkward with other Greyfins closer his age. His puberty came through and developed his body into something unfamiliar and he somehow lost his ability to be a chatty runt he used to be. Confidence was always there, he was always able to add to most subjects, but breaking the ice was difficult even today.

Growing up sure was weird.

"Conner's cockiness aside," the Witch's voice lured him out from his thoughts and he dropped his attention down to her black halo of hair, "he's not going to bite. Much."

"That's quite reassuring," Kaldur found himself saying. How cheeky.

She rolled her eyes and wiped her hands dry, "I've been around enough to tell you weren't all that comfortable yet," with a careful weight the Witch patted his bicep, "so why not let him ask you questions? Conner's sensible enough."

Kaldur considered that possibility too, "Should I wait for him?"

"I asked him to give you a bit of tour guide," the Witch admitted, as she rolled down her sleeves and pulled the ends of them taut, "and considering the fact he won't stop messing with _my_ house," she shot Conner a glare the moment he returned with the door falling shut at his back and puzzled Kaldur for her sudden treatment, "it'd make sense for him."

"A'right, that's fair," Conner sounded his easy agreement, nonplussed by the Witch's slight annoyance and thudded the bowl used to contain eligible rubbishes atop the granite surface, "want something to drink while you're finishing up?"

Confused, Kaldur tilted his head and grabbed the stopper, unplugging both of the adjoining sinks, "Sure, may I have water please?" The drain rumbled.

"'Ey, no need to be polite—I grew up a farmboy, my mamaw was a hard-nosed lady but even she never had a real need to be _that_ formal," Conner waved Kaldur's rigorous approach away, his feet carrying him to the fridge they kept fully stocked, "water it is."

Patting himself dry on a nearby handtowel and peeling the damp apron off Kaldur saw the Witch's smile. She pinned her hands on her hips, "I'm heading out to do some gardening and check on the critters, you two play nice!" She then lend in closer to Kaldur's ear, "If he does anything funny, let me know and I'll give him quite an ear."

"I can _hear_ you, woman!" Conner erupted. His face darkened with a pouty scowl, "I wasn't going to bite, I _swear_."

One of the Witch's brow lifted to her hairline, "Right. Well, then," she palmed Kaldur's arm, still keeping her touch light, and ignored Conner's grumbling grunt, "I'll be right outside." Before she could step away though, the Witch paused and eyed his chest. A hum left her throat and she reached up to his bare shoulders, "You still need a shirt."

Kaldur could almost taste his beating heart, when the Witch readjusted his sealskin to close it at his collarbone. As soon as she did though, her hands retreated and he was rendered strangely more reassured than before. He coughed, turning his chin away from the petite woman, "I'll keep that in mind."

"Don't worry about it, just me being silly. I'll go and bother my plants now." She spun away, her hums lyrical to their ears, Animals noises rang the air for the brief moment she stepped outside.

"Don't take her too seriously," Conner's grumble roused Kaldur from his inattention and startled him when a plastic bottle slapped his hands, "I ain't gotta bite—promise. Why don't you let me show ya around?" He flickered a finger to another threshold and minded the island in the kitchen, "Come on, won't take much time. You'll be back in bed in an iffy."

Falling in line of Conner's heavy stamps, his boots clanging against the wooden floor. The floor, Kaldur realized, felt entirely too new underneath his pink soles. Too shiny, to fit into the aged aesthetic of this home.

Noticing Kaldur's curiosity, Conner slowed to the doorframe, rustic and decorated with odds and ends oddly fitting for a witch, "I put that new floor in a day, last one was kinda…falling apart." He radiated pride of his hard work, oblivious to Kaldur's surprise. Conner's chest fell and he roughed a hand in his hair, "She was right about one thing—I've been messing around with her house. Tryin' to fix this hellva old place up for her."

"That's," Kaldur closed in, his voice soft, "quite generous of you." He craned back to the floor, impressed with Conner's impeccable work.

"Kinda feel like I had to," Conner resumed his destination and gestured Kaldur to stay close, "Lady won't accept anything for what she did for me. Just told me to get her an easy veal—sure I got it for her, but didn't feel enough of a payment for saving my skin weeks ago." He shrugged, "Saw the shitty state of this old place and thought, hey why not fix it up?"

Kaldur reeled back and fell behind, "Most…would've merrily kept on. Free rides as most humans would've put it." He curled his fingers into his sealskin.

Wondering if it was even right not to return the deeds.

"Yea, well," Conner turned at his feet, scuffling the floor a tad with his worn boots and stuffed his mitts inside his pockets, "I ain't one of them—my old pops would've torn me a new one for not paying back a favor."

There was a quiet pause, before he nodded in approval, "They'd raised you well then." Kaldur remarked, impressed.

"Heh! Not well enough, now come on," Conner rose a finger to the adjacent turn of hallways, "you came from this way, right? That's where the bathroom is. Gotta upgrade that in the next month or so." Without granting Kaldur a chance to part his mouth, he continued, "Also where bedrooms are too, just a bit of way down—mine is two doors down, though I just hogged the living room," the last sentence Conner said in a self-reflecting whisper, "the room between is just a storage room for some weird junks and the Lady's right across from yours."

"Oh so that was why she didn't take long to check on me," Kaldur murmured. The Witch's home felt bigger than what it really was.

Conner dropped his hand down to his pocket, "Doesn't look like much, but she was already having a bit of pissy match with me with expanding this noisy old house in the middle of nowhere-ville." He clicked his tongue, rousing Kaldur's interests.

"But, isn't it her property?" It was disrespectful to alter someone's home, wasn't it? Kaldur could admit that while cozy in its own way, it certainly felt quite outdated even by his inexperienced standards.

He chortled at Kaldur's concerns, "If it was in a tiptop shape, maybe I'd let it go." Conner took a slow stride deeper into the corridor and Kaldur forced himself to hurry behind, "But Lady ain't really doing a very good job trying to upkeep the outside." He led into a lobby, the door rich as its hardwood floor. Conner took the knob, "Lemme show ya."

Fresh air hit Kaldur and he couldn't resist sighing at its familiarity. It carried the scent of salt too, the ocean was still nearby—even if it was out of his sight and brown and greenery of the plains concealed most of the skyline.

Then his eyes fell at the jaggy texture underneath his feet. Heavily chipped paint failed to hide the rotting floor it was meant to disguise, creaking with their weights. Kaldur nearly fell back inside the house.

The porch was…

There were hardly any kind word to describe its sad state. Even though the rocking chair and arrangements of potted plants adoring the edges of the porch and decorated across the sculpted railings livened up the sad appearance, there was no hiding how poorly kept it was. He couldn't help his wince.

"Yeah, so uhh," Conner took to the brief steps leading down to the dirt path, "watch your steps—don't need any rusty nail sticking it in you. Does bad things to your body if you ain't lucky." Facing him Conner kept on walking backward, his head facing high, "You'll see what I mean real quick."

Heeding the Wolf's warnings Kaldur hopped down the stone stair and stood himself next to Conner. He followed Conner's gaze. He couldn't smother a hiss either.

Similar to the porch below, rest of the house was not pretty. The walls were showing its age and there were some cracks in the glass windows poorly covered with strips of duct tapes. It was _painful_ to look at, "I…am assuming that the roof isn't supposed to look like that either." Kaldur slowly added, eying the sorry patchworks of blue tarps and pineconing shingles.

"Nope." Conner confirmed. With a long exhausted sigh, he scratched the back of his neck, "Turned out that the Lady isn't exactly made of money and she'd been living on her own for ages—like a friggin' hermit. Apparently," he remembered a particular detail that piqued Kaldur's interest, "she got this place few years ago from some old friend who passed away during then." Not hearing Kaldur's 'ah' of understanding, Conner saddled his thumbs inside of his pockets, "She was getting by okay, but this house was hellva leaking when I came around so it didn't feel right for me not to do anything about it."

Kaldur was impressed by the Wolf's sense of duty, "So, what are you intending to do?" He was curious, watching as Conner's eyes took on an analytic sheen.

"Hm, well, Lady'll kill me probably, but I wanna try and get her that second story and make that roof hellva pretty before the winter blows in and beat the house down." Conner clicked his tongue again, "It actually already got the making of it right in the attic, but whoever built it quit it about a half way in. Iunno if you noticed, but the roof looked kinda wrong, doesn't it?"

Now that he pointed it out, Kaldur did wonder why the house looked far taller than it was inside. The ceiling was only about two-three feet from the top of his head, so where was the extra height coming from? He grimaced, "Is…that why the house was failing to hold?"

"Not so much, it's just the lack of proper upkeep," Conner admitted, "the guy did decent enough job of keeping shits out from the 'attic'," he air-quoted that word, "being how old it was, but stuffs still got in and starting to rot the woods a bit since Lady can't get to it to clean stuffs up. But, the foundations are there and while the guy did half-ass the up of it, he did a good job putting shits together, so," he moved his feet to another side of the house, "the Lady _shouldn't_ have to move out while I fix it up and add to it. In theory, anyway."

Kaldur followed, grass felt heavenly on his feet, "Isn't this sort of things illegal in urban areas?" He puzzled.

"Oh, probably will get condemned, I bet, or maybe gets sold to the flippers for cheap. Can't say for sure because each province I've been to have their regulations a bit different." Conner grunted, kicking aside a rock from his path, "Good thing we got 7 months before the winter kicks in. In any case, Lady can have her hissy fits, but she ain't dumb to pretend that her place was in a dandy shape." He glanced back to his new companion, "So, she only bitch and moan about it but is pretty hand-off about this whole thing."

"Ah," Kaldur frowned, "you'll be keeping yourself very busy."

Conner scoffed, "I liked keeping myself busy and pissing the Lady off with all of my hammerin'. She makes cute faces when she's complainin', heh!" He resumed his circling the house, "But, yeah, I gotta touch up the gutters a bit—and install some sort of weather preventative measures for those cracked windows. Don't wanna replace them if I'm messing with upstairs and risk a break so early on. Still needed to be replaced eventually," He checked off his fingers, remembering his to-do list, "I'll have to install the stairs for the second floor though, knock out the hole and wall for it, and trying to remake a roof atop of it will be tricky. Dun wanna force the Lady out of her home when she had nowhere else to sleep in if I can. I definitely got to get new sets of doors for the gal though, they're starting to rot."

"That's," Kaldur frowned, wondering how he missed the door—thinking back on it, it did look a bit swollen, "a lot. Aren't those expensive to get the materials for?"

Conner gestured to the wide horizon of greenery behind the house, "Bunch of woods I can get, I have my equipments with me already—and rest I know some good friends get me stuffs for super cheap. Being a construction worker gets you a lot of fingers in those pies." He hummed, "I stock up on my wooden stuffs on a weekend so I can work the rest of the week."

"…I can hardly wrap my head around it," Kaldur murmured, feeling inadequate for his lack of _human_ working skills, "I'd like to see you in action, rebuilding this home…You've been doing this for a while?"

"'Ey," he nodded, "Been doing this since I was a kid. I've been around a lot, can never stay in one place long because of, well," Conner gestured to his face, "ya know, my condition." Shrugging off Kaldur's look of sympathy, he glanced upward, "I do work things fast though," he pumped his bicep and tapped his bunched muscle on his upper arm, cracking a large grin and made his arrogance apparent, "so all of that, shouldn't take longer than 3 months. 2, if my… condition isn't acting up as much. Even with my farm chores."

Kaldur nearly balked, "You're only one person! And you're intending to finish…?"

"I mean, all of that and with the farm work, it does sound impossible," Conner snorted, "but I can pull all of the weight now that I'm…er," he rubbed his head and led Kaldur into another turn of the house, "a wa—, it's really weird to say—" his eyes caught a welcome vision, "hey, Lady!" Kaldur jolted, a hand darting to his ear from Conner's volume.

His voice is definitely as big as his Wolf form.

Hands deep in dirt, the Witch blinked at Conner's somewhat loud summon, "What?" Her tone took on an edge, something that had Kaldur quirking a small smirk of amusement.

From her expression alone, her annoyance was merely a show.

"What was the word for my condition?" Conner closed in, mindful of the vegetations. The colors were impressively vivid, Kaldur saw, when he took his position next to the wolf shifter.

"Ah," the Witch hummed and patted off the brown print from her skirt, "_Wawkalak*_." At Kaldur's curious tilt at the word, "I'll allow Conner to explain, if you are curious."

Conner shrugged, though there was a weight in his lips, "Later—you need to rest up and I got some work to catch up on." Kicking up a boot, he rubbed his hands, wearing a complementing expression.

"He's right," the Witch gently agreed, pulling up to her feet. Not caring about her state, she stepped over a row of carrots and cupped Kaldur's elbow, "you still need to rest."

Kaldur didn't fight her soft tugs, falling in the line when the Witch pulled him to the closest entrance of her house. It led to the kitchen, and at the door's falling on his back, the animals' noises faded from his ears. He didn't need to look back to know that Conner hadn't followed, distracted by the thoughts of his works.

But something bothered him.

Before the Witch could encourage Kaldur to lie down on his neatly made bed (wait, when was it made?), he fixated his gaze on her and twisted his sealskin into his fists, "You saved me—what can I do to pay that debt?"

The Witch sighed, resisting the urge to grimace at Kaldur's quiet plea, "I don't want for anything, honest." Patting his forearms and hooked her fingers on his dark tattooed skin, she smiled, "Why don't you lie down for a bit? Do you like reading? I have plenty of books."

Dropping his weight onto the mattress Kaldur slipped his hands to grab onto hers, "…Please, _let me do something for you_."

Her reply was a laugh, "It's fine, really—I want for naught." Loosening her hands from Kaldur, she didn't miss his dubious expression and sighed once more, "We'll talk more later, okay? Please, rest. Do you like to read? It's a bit boring..." The Witch tried, tucking away her hands from his reach.

Crossing his brows Kaldur wetted his lips, "...I don't get to read much, but I liked mystery." It wasn't like he could bring books home, without getting them drenched and their words incomprehensible.

Brightening, she crossed her fingers and grinned, "I have just the few books in mind for you. I'll be right back!" With a twirl of her feet, the Witch was gone before Kaldur could implement another word.

"Wa—" Kaldur clicked his teeth and dropped his hand to his lap. Curling his hands into fists, he pursed his lips, "Just who are you?"

What witch would refuse a payment?

* * *

*Wawkalak, a russian myth in which the individual is cursed by a Devil and transformed into a wolf, keeping their memories and identity. Yet despite their changed appearance, family and friends recognize them and still maintain friendliness and love for the cursed individual. However, due to their newfound nature, the _wawkalak_ gained lust to wander until they can find a place to settle down and be belonged.

* * *

A/N: Not much to say this time around! So, uhh, enjoy this chapter and please leave a feedback. Hopefully I'll have just one more chapter done for next week for y'all.


	4. Debts, Unpaid

"You're not gonna get anything out of her, ya know," Kaldur blinked, pausing his examining his palm, admiring how well the previously craggy wound healed, and glanced upward from his spot on the patio. Conner's boots were heavy on the steel ladder when he continued his climb to the roof, hammering his weight on each rung.

Furrowing his pale brows Kaldur followed Conner with his gaze, "I'm sorry?" There was a hitch of an odd combination of amusement and exasperation in the wolf's deep voice.

"You're thinking on how to pay the Lady back, right?" Conner pushed off from the last rung and planted himself onto the surface, absently flinging aside a stray shingle. It flew onto the morning dewed grass below.

Kaldur eyed it in disapproval, before he returned to Conner, "Why wouldn't I be? She saved me—as did you." He remembered.

He froze his reaching for another shingle, "'ey, all I did was to be a transportation—Lady had an intuition about things." Conner resumed his chucking and more shingles joined its first brethren on the ground, "She sensed that someone out there needed help and that was you—lucky timing 'cause I was in that form so I get to be her steed." He then impressed a grunt, climbing closer to the very top of the house, "'he bastard got scared off seein' both me and the Lady, so as soon as she stripped you from your skin—can't really carry you so slippy, we dragged you on my back and made the run back here to have you fixed up."

Kaldur frowned at Conner's humbleness, "You did enough. Without you, she might've been too late." Pulling up to his feet he walked off from the steps so to get a better visual of the wolf on the roof, "So, I owed you as we—"

"Naw," Conner waved him away, "I ain't taking no damn payment for doing a right thing. If there's anyone you wanna hold a debt to, it'd be the Lady," he slapped aside the blue plastic tarp to analyze his next course of action, his plans far from linear, "without that instinct of hers, I would never get to ya on time." Conner straightened to his full height and saddling the hands on his hips, minding his tool belt, eying Kaldur below, "But I'm gettin' off topic, good luck trying to get the price named from her. You can either go home free or," he shrugged, "just stick around and buggin' the fuck out of the Lady, doin' nice things for her and other stuffs. I don't think she got much company around. Buggin' her is what I'm doin' anyway."

Twisting his sealskin tighter on his back Kaldur then realized the depth of Conner's answer, "You…tried the same? Trying to enforce a payment?" He wondered aloud.

"Oh, definitely—she won't budge any further than a freakin' deer. Too easy and cheap for what she did for me in comparison." Conner admitted, shuffling forward on the roof with his eyes on the crooked rooster shaped weather vane.

"So, you stayed instead and took over some aspect of her life?" Kaldur puzzled. His dry remark had Conner stumbling forward and catching himself before he could plant his face onto the rough patch of shingle.

Conner glowered at Kaldur, "D-don't phase it like that!"

Kaldur's lips curled upward, "But I am not wrong, am I? You demanded to fix her house, took over a quarter to half of her farm chores, and hovering behind her—" He muffled a chortle at the following reply.

"Now you're just making everything to sound worse than what they really are." Conner grouched out, slapping a hand on the roof and righted himself to stand, "What else am I supposed to do? Tell me—what would you do if Lady won't accept payment from you?"

At that Kaldur paused. A frown played on his lips, considering his answer, "Hm, you bring up a good point."

Conner huffed out a puff of air, "Kinda obvious but your family raised you well if you didn't want to leave behind an unpaid debt. I told ya but my old pa and mamaw would've skin me alive if I go without a proper thanks—and I'd have to deal with my old man's waggling tongue too." That puff turned into a sigh, almost sounding a grimace. He ruffled a hand into his unruly hair, "My point is, you don't seem like a type who would leave things unfinished."

"You're…quite observant," Kaldur tugged his sealskin tightly across his back, "you're not wrong." There were little else he could say.

Glancing over to Kaldur below, Conner didn't miss that look on his face—his eyesight was impressive enough, "…Come back to me when you're able to get an answer, yeah?" He didn't look back for a response, his mind returning to his work.

Digging his fingers deeper in his fur, Kaldur pulled open his palm again and saw the flawless pink color.

* * *

The Witch paused her knitting at hearing the creaks of her floor, "Oh, hello," she smiled, pleased to see how healthy Kaldur looked.

It was nice not having any ugly red flaws or any dark bruises on his lovely brown skin, "how are you feeling? Oh!" She didn't miss Kaldur's gazing aside for a spot in her tiny studio and gestured, "Sit anywhere you'd like."

Kaldur couldn't resist scanning around, admiring little trinkets hanging from the ceiling and the top of window frame—there were colored glass shards, stones, gems, and what looked like seashells in neat rings of arrangement, colorful woven hand quilts draped across the walls, and multitude of lively green plants adoring most of the visible surfaces. Baskets filled to brim of sheared wools, patches of patterned fabric, dried herbs, and other assortments were scattered across the floor. The focus point of this room was a large fabric rack, completed with multiple unfinished projects, not a hint of those dowels to be seen, sitting prettily behind the Witch and safely away from the window. Kaldur wetted his lips, it was the first time he'd been in this room, "Oh, wow,"

The room also smelled much like the same from his herbal bath, drawing that sense of homely comfort. It was also oddly fitting, the witchy aesthetics, but without the undertone of cartoonish evil he'd heard so much about from the mystical fables behind the witches. Kaldur could get used to this charming little space.

Giggles turned Kaldur back to the Witch, "Oh, should I take that as a compliment?" She glowed, tucking away her project and needles on the armrest of her overstuffed recliner. Kaldur was wise not to ask how she'd managed to fit the furniture through the door.

Kaldur smiled, loosening his holds on the sealskin on his back, "You should—it's a delightful little room you have here," he gestured to a loose chair from underneath the hefty desk (again, he was wise not to ask how the Witch managed to fit it inside the room), "May I?"

She shooed him, "I said you can sit anywhere," the Witch teased.

Dragging it loose Kaldur could feel his cheeks warming, "Doesn't hurt to ask." The chair didn't look comfortable, but the cushion and its straw back fitted his body with relative ease—somehow it suited to the homeliness of this room.

"You're looking quite well, Kaldur!"

A chuckle bubbled from his throat, "It's all thanks to you, madam," He rested his smiling lips on his finger, "you're…a remarkable healer."

"Psh, don't flatter me," the Witch warmed, amused, before her lips fell a notch, "do you need anything?" She woven her fingers.

She saw through him and Kaldur once again breathed a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck, "You're quite observant," he cleared his throat, not oblivious to that childish sense of sitting before a teacher, "yes, I came here concerning my debt—"

The Witch dropped her shoulders, "that again? I was hoping you'd forget." Her words slipped in quietly, but Kaldur heard them just the same.

Rising his chin, almost in defiance, Kaldur rested his hands on his knees, "My conscience cannot rest knowing I failed to show my gratitude to you properly, miss." When the Witch eyed him, almost in doubt, he continued, "So, please, tell me, what can I do for you to repay you for saving my life…for healing, clothing, sheltering, and feeding me?" Kaldur made sure to emphasize the Witch's kind deeds, to drive his point home.

"Conner and now you," the Witch sighed and shook her head, rubbing her temper, "alright, alright…let me think on it for a minute." The moment didn't last long, when her fingers snapped, "Do you have any sort of animals or plants your people might've used as medicine? Antidote?" She clicked her tongue.

Kaldur blinked, "I—yes, a few. Wise ones often send my brothers and I every harvesting season to prepare for upcoming winters." He rubbed together his calloused fingers, remembering his first catch. It ended with him gravely ill due to the animal's toxicity.

"I'll accept them and any information you may have for those." The Witch smacked her hands and glowed, "There, that's your payment."

"Th-that's it? Miss…" Kaldur reigned in his sputters. So, there were truth in Conner's claims.

For saving the Wolf's life, the Witch asked only for meals in the form of the veal's body.

For saving the selkie's life, she asked only for a sample his people used for medicine—not at all a hard feat for his kind. It was commonplace for them to bring home more than an armful under an hour.

Both prices seemed too cheap for all that she did for them. Without a second thought or even a moment of hesitance, she leapt head first to save them—strangers to her, and judged them not for being supernatural creatures. And, then, the Witch expected no payment in return?

Kaldur grimaced, "I do not think—"

"That's the only payment I'll accept," the Witch warned, her smile chilling him down to his bones. It wasn't a battle he could win.

He thinned his lips and dropped his head into a nod, "V-very well. When would you like them?"

Pulling down on her sleeves the Witch paused, her eyes burning his skin, "Hm, well, after today, you can leave anytime, really. You're pretty much completely recovered—" a whistle interrupted, startling Kaldur, and she rolled to her feet. Patting her long skirt smooth, the Witch breezed by him, "You can just take it easy for now, maybe start preparing to head back home?" She shrugged, resting a hand on the door frame, "Tea's ready, if you'd like a cup."

"…I would like one, yes." Kaldur mumbled, his words weak.

* * *

By the time Kaldur returned outside the dirt ground was littered with piles of shingles. Off to a side there was a pallet worth of brand new shingles still wrapped under pink plastic, when Kaldur was sure he hadn't seen it this morning. He tried not to grimace at the gritty texture underneath his feet when he searched for the source of pounding sounds, "Conner?" His voice was lost under the hammering.

The thundering booms stilled.

"Yea?" Conner returned, his pitch carrying far past the selkie's ears. Creaks followed, "Ya done with the Lady?"

Tilting his head high to the roof, Kaldur continued walking backward—mindful of his footing with the discarded pieces, until he could see a hint of Conner's dark mess of hair, "Yes." He stopped when Conner popped his head into his view.

Conner didn't linger long on his dismayed expression when he gave him a belly-deep chuckle, "Guess it'd be a good time to say 'I told ya so' then?" The way he phased his words did not sound like a question.

Drawing his sealskin tight, Kaldur refused to spare Conner a reply.

* * *

A/N: lots of typos in this chapter, rip. Kinda boring, but this story is intended to be a developmental/slow burn kind of story anyway. But, I think I'm pleased with how Conner and Kaldur's progressing with their newfound friendship, their first step to their future romance with Kagome (lol). Next chapter should come with some drama though!

I think somebody will not be pleased with Kaldur's decision.


	5. Stretched Skin, Jagged Teeth

"Thanks for driving me," Kaldur relished into the familiar texture of white sand underneath his toes. It was home, music of seagulls' drifted throughout the salty air. He looked up at the explosive thud of the driver's door and saw the Sea Witch brushing a hand over the warmed hood, "you didn't need to." He said quietly.

She shrugged, patting her old truck and ignored how course the rusty metal was on her palm, "I wanted to show you the way. The walk back shouldn't be long." The Sea Witch looked back to the bed of her vehicle, "Conner—"

Her truck groaned with his weight, "Yah, I'm coming, just getting the stuffs." Conner stood up, rummaging through whatever contents that was in the back. Metals crinkled against metals and Kaldur once again wondered whose this truck belonged to.

It was nothing but tools back there, yet the WItch wasn't willing to surrender her keys to Conner. Their one-minute long spat earlier was at least amusing to watch, something that earned a smile—a snicker more like—from Kaldur. _They were somehow adorable_.

Kaldur then remembered—Conner was going to leave him a bag of clothes to change into whenever he gets back on the beach, citing the Witch's modesty as the reason, "Right," he tugged on his baggy pair of pants, minding the conflicting textures of his sealskin over his shoulders, "really appreciated you two coming out here with me."

"Oh, it's not at all a problem!" The Witch upturned her lips, palming on his door and pushed it shut for him, "Doesn't feel right not to see you off." She admitted.

Kaldur appreciated how she looked under the grey sun—there were a few clouds in the gloomy sky, blackening with an incoming storm, but the sun still peered through with its colors dulled. Yet, she somehow kept her radiating smile. He shook his head once of this strange illusion of her glowing, "Thank you." Kaldur repeated.

Slight crunching of sands under a pair of steel-toed boots distracted him, turning Kaldur to over his shoulders, "Here," Conner rosed a plastic bag in his view, "iunno where you'll put it though. Will you find your way back here?" He weighted it in his hand, heavy with a shirt and a pair of worn-out jeans. Following the action Conner thumped a chest cooler onto the ground, "For the fishes or whatever you'll find. You should be able to wheel it back."

Grappling the gift, Kaldur nodded, "I should be able to—and thank you." Selkies had an uncanny ability to memorize every possible route, mentally searing a map of some sorts in their instincts. Large part of it was due to the selkies' natural urges to protect their pack, playing scouts and distractions from hunters.

It was how he managed to fend off that one bastard.

Plastic to keep the clothes perfectly dry and the cooler to keep his discoveries from rotting from humid temperature. He wasn't sure quite where to put them yet, but Kaldur deemed it not worthy of a concern. "Do you mind finding a good place to hide these where I'll find them?" He asked instead.

Conner blinked, before he rose his broad shoulders to drop them into a shrug, "Yeah, not a problem." Plastic wrinkled under his hand when Kaldur returned it.

"You'll be going now then?" the Witch's soft voice breezed into his ears.

Kaldur nodded, "I should beat the storm, I'll be back within a few days time, if all goes well." He met her eyes and couldn't help a smile.

"You should see your pack too," the Sea Witch reminded. She pulled his hands into hers, "they must be worried sick about you."

Kaldur chuckled, not surprised by her observation, "That's the plan." He _should_ pull his hands back, but Kaldur didn't.

Conner cleared his throat and tilted closer to Kaldur, "Didn't ya say you gotta beat the storm?" He eyed him.

In the distance, the sky rumbled.

"You're right." Kaldur pulled his sealskin taut across his back, "I—I'll see you two in a few days."

Something dropped into the pit of his stomach and tugged at his mind, but at what, Kaldur wasn't sure. Dread? Why?

It wasn't his instincts shambling to live—or to acknowledge the danger. It was foreign to him. But, Kaldur refused himself to dwell on this odd feeling.

Kaldur tucked his thumb into the waistband of his flannel pants. He tugged it, not at all thinking. Being nude, was essential to transform into his greyfin state.

A yip stalled him, "O-oh!" The Witch spun around with her face in the hands, "Not again!"

Conner didn't look away and patted on the Witch's back, "Nuthin' wrong with looking, lady," he snickered, "you seen me naked all the time."

"Unintentional! Completely unintentional!" The Witch wailed, her ears as pink as her cheeks. She roughed the end of her fuzzy sleeves into her palms, her strangled sounds settling a belly laugh in Conner's throat, "Both of you are horrible! Why can't you just wear scraps of clothes when you turn back!?"

"Dun think Kaldur can swim into them," Conner chortled, his teeth white through the grin, "and have you seen the size of me, pretty lady? None of that are going to last!"

Unable to resist joining in the teasing, Kaldur choked a chuckle when the flannel pooled at his feet, "Conner's correct, clothes is a hinderance. Skin on skin is the only way I can change my forms." Cheekily he added, "I've been told by many that I am quite attractive. There's no shame in looking." Kaldur snuck closer to her and gifted her a peek of his chest, curious of the Witch's reaction.

"Nooo!" the Witch sailed away from the men's presences, only to realize their prank. "Terrible, you're so terrible!" she moaned.

Conner couldn't resist a whistle, "You're missing out."

"Shuddup!" the proud Witch barked.

Teasing abated, Kaldur sighed at the retreating laughter from his lungs, "I have a bad habit of forgetting the land dwellers' modesty," he gave an apologetic ting to his tone, "don't mind me too much." He wrapped his lanky frame with his sealskin. Without another word, Kaldur reached over his back and pulled over the excessive skin on his face.

There were no flourish to his changing state. Only heart-aching noises. Bones cracked and muscles pulled, curling over new shapes. Pain lingered, but never for long.

Sealskin lost any seam, when it molded onto his body. Face lengthened and teeth became jagged. A bark slipped from his throat.

Fins met and splashed the sand, with his belly buried in it. His pale eyes blinked, to clear away the fog from his mind, and wiggled his bushy whiskers. Sweet-salty stench of the ocean grew stronger and the colors became more clearer—more golden.

Kaldur rose his heavy head and focused his dog-like gaze on the awestruck Witch. The slits in his nose flared. Sands flushed when he plopped himself closer.

"I—" the Witch rose her hands, but hesitant and floated her fingers over the speckled skin. Kaldur hit the hand and nosed into her palm. He breezed a pleased snort when she took a slow stroke down on his head.

"Not that much different from mine," Conner murmured. Unlike the Witch, he didn't keep his distance and scratched under the seal's chin, "noisy and awkward as fuck—but once it's over, it'll just feel like home. Chin scratches are also pretty great."

Kaldur rumbled his agreement, Conner trickling a nice spot on his throat. He wriggled his nose.

"Ah! Your whiskers—" the Witch jumped when they flicked against her arms. They were more solid than she expected, feeling the weights through her cardigan. With care, she prodded at the end of one line, "Amazing…"

Conner dropped to near his knees and admired Kaldur's large body, "First time I've seen a seal up close—especially a sea fae like you." He drifted his hand away from Kaldur's chin and frowned, "Can you talk?"

A bark and a near-cartoonish shake of Kaldur's head answered Conner's question. Conner hummed, "Damn, there's that one difference. I can talk but you can't. _Lame_."

"Well, we'll have time to ask questions later," the Witch glanced up to the blackening sky, "you should get going before the sea become too rough. Thank you for sparing your time, I'm sure it can't be comfortable showing your transformation." She murmured. The Witch blinked when Kaldur burrowed his head into her collarbone for a brief moment, "Conner hated showing me his changes."

By the heaven was Kaldur _massive_. If he stretched his body, he would probably tower over her without a lick of problem. Kaldur's head was easily bigger than her torso.

Conner huffed, "Who wanted to see a ratman in the middle of that?" He pushed up to his full height, not forgoing picking up the abandoned flannel on the sand, and gestured at Kaldur, "You oughta go." He ignored the objections falling from the Witch's lips.

With a burst of breath, Kaldur nodded and made his way to the shore. It was awkward flopping his massive body in front of an audience, leaving a jagged line in the sand. It seemed like such a juvenile pup thing to do.

Glimmering water welcomed him home. Kaldur glanced backward to the two he owed so much to. They waved at him, bidding him a farewell.

He'll come back.

That's a promise.

Inhaling sharply and kept the air in his lungs, he splashed into the tepid water, Kaldur spun his body and stretched his skin in the great blue. It felt like leather for days, untouched by the sea's gentle cradle.

The surface below was also a familiar sight, peppered with small lifeforms darting away from the large predator drifting down from above. Kaldur wasn't interested in the hunting, simply admiring the nature's artworks. Even the bubbles escaping from his nostrils and mouth were one of many pictures he missed.

Cracking the surface, he erupted a deafening bark, to bid his new friends his farewell. The Witch had quite a delighted expression, a nanosecond before she entered her truck. A foot in the truck, Conner—the Wolf, bellowed back with a great wave.

Kaldur released one more cry, pleased to see their smiles. Not lingering long to catch the rolling thunders of the old engine, he returned himself to the sea. The destination was bright in his mind.

Yet somehow, he found more longing to return to the Sea Witch and her Wolf than he was of the home beyond the depth.

* * *

A/N: Today's my birthday so as per tradition, you all are getting an update. Anyway, here we see Conner being bi af at lasts. Poor Kagome. It was all in good fun though, they hadn't meant anything beyond teasing the cardigan off of her.

Supposed to be (somewhat) a wholesome fic tbh, peppered with some dramas and conflicts to overcome.

Anyway, a special thank you to a random reviewer for reminding me that this fic existed lol 2020 had been rough. See ya'll soon~


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